


Par Four

by orphan_account



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: First Dates, First Kiss, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Golf, M/M, Niam - Freeform, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-15
Updated: 2014-10-15
Packaged: 2018-02-21 06:27:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2458211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>"You okay to go with Liam then?"</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"Liam doesn't even golf!"</em>
</p><p>Or, the one where Niall's sure he's made a right arse of himself by trying to kiss Liam at the club the other night and Harry still thinks it's a good idea to have him teach Liam how to golf.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Par Four

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sakabelle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sakabelle/gifts).



> I'd like to say a big thanks to sakabelle, because not only was this fic for her, she beta'd it for me as well (shh). Any and all remaining mistakes are my own. I hope you enjoy the final version!
> 
> I also hope everyone who reads this enjoys as well, and my apologies if there isn't enough golf in what was supposed to be a strictly golf fic. Any thoughts would be lovely!

At first, it all seems like a really bad dream: the club, the drinking, the smoking, trying to kiss Liam, Zayn having to get him at five in the morning. 

Then the sunlight smacks him right in the face and Niall is pretty sure he sounds like a dying animal as he groans and rolls away from the window. The aching in his skull reassures him that, nope, all of that definitely happened. And Niall hasn't had a hangover this wicked in _forever_ , but he has a sneaking suspicion that it's not all to be blamed on the alcohol. Rather, the awful _what ifs_ and _what the hell did I do that for_ and _how much is already leaked_ form a steady chant in the back of his head that the blood pounds ravenously to. Even his vision throbs and swims when he tries to paw around the nightstand to check the time on his phone.

**_Reminder: tee time @ 2:30 w/ Harry_ **

And all Niall really wants to do now is give up on today already because it's one fifteen and he's got to go all the way out to Greenwich and God knows where Harry is. Speaking of whom. Why wasn't he trying to drag Niall out of bed two hours ago? They were supposed to tee off together.

"Shit," he curses, almost face-planting into the floor. He tries to make a scramble for the shower but a strong, firm grip manages to haul him back onto the bed where he thumps back down with a pained groan.

"Easy there, Niall. Don't get too ahead of yourself, yeah?"

"Liam?" His head swims as he tries to sit up again and why is Liam there? Niall's whole world tilts back and forth because he shouldn't be, he really, really shouldn't be. "I got golf wid Harry."

Calloused fingers knead into his shoulder blades and Niall shudders as he struggles to sit back up straight.

"Not anymore you don't. He's rescheduled. Look at the state you're in."

"'M fine. I can still make it."

Liam chuckles, and why can Niall see what is most certainly adoration when he looks up at him. It's not fair, it's really not, not after what happened last night.

"I think you should get some rest, Niall."

"Why're yeh even here? Y'should go. Go get 'arry and tell 'im I'll be down in a bit."

Then, gravity totally fails on Niall and he crashes nose first into his pillow with a muffled 'ow', effectively blocking from his view the dismay that flashes through Liam's features.

"I'll be back in a bit," he says softly.

Niall grunts.

When he wakes up again, less disorientated but a hell of a lot more nauseous with the smell in his mouth, he's thankful for the water and painkillers, and for the bucket conveniently placed by the side of the bed.

 

**& &**

 

Out of sheer mortification, Niall pulls a Zayn and disappears. From the fans, the band, social media, everyone. He takes a few days to himself between New York and Connecticut and ignores all of the worried texts from the lads and even his ma, who called to say Harry had been asking if he had gone back to Ireland for a bit.

He only meets up with Sean out of a single moment of desperation and the need to talk to someone who isn't in or related to One Direction. And ends up relaying the past few days, wincing when he goes into detail about what happened at the club.

Sean just laughs, calls him an idiot and then a wanker, and somehow through the hurt and the annoyance, Niall thinks he knows something that Niall doesn't. Either that or he's just grown suspicious of everyone lately.

Even Zayn shoots him a message through his own hermitage.

Niall doesn't break silence for any of it.

Except when Harry finally texts him saying that wherever Niall is in the world, he's rescheduled their tee time for the next day and he's perfectly fine taking any of the other boys if he doesn't show up. Niall calls Harry on the next flight back from London saying that he'll come. Better to get the ten-minute rant about disappearing and keeping in contact (he's not Zayn, he doesn't have an excuse, Harry scolds), especially in the middle of tour, out of the way before he doesn't have the option to mute him.

If he goes to a club that night as soon as he hits Connecticut and consumes his weight's worth of alcohol, no one acknowledges it, nor bothers him for it. Not even when he can't remember the hotel they're staying at and has to dial Louis for the details.

 

**& &**

 

Niall realizes the next morning when his phone beeps at him with a heavy groan, heavier eyelids, and a sinking feeling in his gut that those few days away did nothing, that he's promised Harry that he'd reschedule.

Seven minutes later, Niall manages to haul himself out of bed and rummage through his suitcase for the emergency painkillers. And if he skips a few minor steps to proper hygiene in the shower, no one has to know. He's just tucking his polo into his trousers, balancing his phone and temples of his sunglasses in his mouth, when he runs into Harry and Liam in the hotel lobby.

"Harry, sorry I'm late, what time did you-?"

"Niall!" Harry's face brightens genuinely when he sees him, but Niall can still sense the sarcasm before it's gone again. Niall wrinkles his nose. Sarcasm is most definitely more Louis' thing, if the pained expression on Harry's face is anything to go by as he tries to train the excitement in his features. "There you are. Thought you were going to cut out again, we were about to send Basil in to get you out. Figured you had a pretty rough night last night so we let you sleep in, but it was cutting it kinda close with the reservations-"

Harry's voice fades into a buzz at the back of Niall's head as he furrows his eyebrows and twists his lip between his teeth as he tries to figure out what's wrong with this picture. He looks them both up and down, trying not to let Liam onto the disconcertion his steady gaze is creating in his head. And then it hits Niall. Harry's still in his workout kit. They'd never make it to the club at this rate. But Liam. Liam's definitely better suited for a day on the green with dark plaid pants and a polo similar to Niall's (the outfit on Liam definitely does not cross Niall's mind as cute) and no. This is not happening. Especially not after what happened the other night. And Harry should know better. He was there, smirking through the whole thing. The bastard _egged him on_. Niall can still hear him whispering filthily in his ear like the devil on his shoulder, _go on Niall, do it! You won't regret it mate, it'll be ace_! 

And look how well that had turned out.

Well, Niall decided really fast he didn't like mulling over how well it had actually turned out.

"Niall?"

Harry's concern snaps him out of his revere, and Niall has to force his eyes to not stop for a glance at Liam and his stupid plaid pants and stupid matching polo before landing back on Harry.

"You okay to go with Liam then?"

Images of him leaning into Liam flash through his mind, and the strong scent of alcohol and throbbing at the base of his skull come back. 

No, he really isn't.

"Liam doesn't even golf!"

"Liam'd like to try it out," Liam puts in.

And what is Liam even doing right now. Niall doesn't remember him drinking half as much as he did, he should be able to remember the whole fiasco, not just bits and pieces like the ones Niall's been trying to shove to the way back of his brain. Plus, he hasn't shown one ounce of interest towards golf ever. Not even when Niall and Harry started playing. Niall definitely doesn't trust this sudden enthusiasm Liam has for the sport.

But- it's not like he can back out right now. That's totally suspicious and even though Niall definitely does not want to pry into how much Liam actually knows about… this crush he has, there's a tiny, sick part of him that hopes it'll divulge itself at one point during the day. So Niall sucks up the defeated sigh and lets Basil and Paddy escort them both to the sleek black van that was supposed to leave a half hour ago. Niall curses Louis' persistence that night, and also partly his own inability to pass up a pint.

 

**& &**

 

It's not like Niall's avoiding Liam. Except he totally is. The whole half hour they've been in the car, Niall's forced his eyes to stay glued to his phone screen, even if he's doing something so simple as scrolling through all his apps. Liam probably knows what he's trying to pull, they've been too close for too long, all the boys know each other like the backs of their hands. But even if he does know, he doesn't let on, tapping away at his own phone like he's humoring Niall and letting him avoid him. 

Finally, Niall allows a glance away from his phone to rest his eyes- and it's a bad choice because he catches Liam's gaze and holds it, before reluctantly pulling up twitter for the first time in days to survey any damage the past night might have caused.

Thankfully, there are only pictures of the boys arriving at the club and Niall leaving suspiciously before any of the others with Zayn, eyes droopy and swimming with alcohol and maybe something that looks like dejection. Niall spends an inordinate amount of time staring at that picture before swiping it away with his thumb. The most incriminating picture isn't all that incriminating, just him leaning too close into Liam, which isn't something abnormal. Nothing more than a little "Niam bromance" action that'll get some fans excited.

Somehow, that thought rubs him the wrong way and he tosses his phone to the seat beside him to stare out the tinted window. He doesn't really want to think about how they have another half hour to waste before they arrive at the green.

"How're you feelin'?" Liam asks forty five minutes in. Niall licks at the scab all the nipping's formed on his lower lip. "Y'know, with your head," he clarifies. Niall wonders if he actually felt like he needed to. "Got back pretty late last night."

He shrugs, finally acknowledging the pulse that's finally starting to ebb away. Then he smells the cologne Liam was wearing that night and it's like he never even popped the pills. He winces, finally admitting that he needs to give Liam his full attention.

"Did you- why're you wearing that?"

Liam wrinkles his nose funny as he looks down at his shirt.

"'I thought this was what you were supposed to wear."

"No, I mean yer cologne. Isn't it fer, like, fancy occasions?"

Niall remembers leaning into the scent like it was his own personal gravitational pull, digging his fingers into Liam's leather jacket and breathing him in- and Niall blinks, back in the car with a newly upset stomach. Liam, minus the chagrin staining his cheeks, actually looks concerned now.

"Are you gonna retch? Because-"

"No, 'm not." Niall rolls down his window, gulping down the fresh air as it swirls into the van to chase the cologne from his lungs.

"D'you just wanna take the day off? You've been acting a bit off ever since-"

" _Liam_ ," Niall snaps. Because he's got a reputation, even with the boys; carefree, happy-go-lucky, and definitely a glutton for punishment because crawling back into the hotel bed right now seems so tempting. "'M not rescheduling again."

Liam doesn't try for any more conversation the rest of the journey. Which is good. It lets Niall's hangover fade into the silence.

 

**& &**

 

The manager of the Stanwich Golf Club comes out to meet them personally, and after welcoming them with a much too enthusiastic smile, taking a few pictures, and signing autographs for his daughters, lets Niall and Liam carry on, telling them to enjoy the course.

"So how long does a course like this usually take?" Liam glances to and from the score sheet and the green. His eyebrows and nose are scrunching up and his lower lip's pouting out the way they usually do when Liam's not exactly grasping something.

"'Bout four hours. That's if ya know what yer doing though. I reckon it'll take us a bit longer. Can take a break around the ninth hole though."

When they finally manage to gather up all the equipment they need, meet their caddy, John, and make it to the first hole it's half three.

"So, it's the person with the lowest score who wins," Niall explains, taking the score sheet from Liam. He gulps and tries to shift away as inconspicuously as possible when Liam crowds his space to get a look at the sheet with him, trying to continue on as if nothing's changed.

"A score consists of pars, that's how many swings it takes you to get the ball in the hole, and each hole will have a set number of pars, or swings, it should take you to get the ball into the hole."

Liam nods like he's been eager to learn about golf all this time.

Niall takes a deep breath.

"So pick yer club, make sure it fits well." 

He slides his own out of the bag while Liam takes his time trying out different ones.

"How d'you know if it's supposed to fit?" Liam asks, balancing a driver.

Niall bites the inside of his mouth but before he can tell Liam the club's a bit too short for his height, John's taking it away with a laugh, telling him so.

"You want to measure the length from your wrist to the ground. Your posture's pretty important too."

Niall doesn't say anything, even though Liam isn't paying John any attention at all, looking at Niall like he's waiting for Niall to nod and tell him that John's right, listen to him. Like Niall knows more about the sport than John does. Niall's stomach flips, because John's probably far more practiced than he'll be for a long time.

John sizes Liam up and picks another club from the bag.

"Here, try this one."

"Reckon this one's good?" Liam holds his choice up, looking for Niall's seal of approval.

"Yeah, give it a go. You can start off."

"He's fibbing, right?" John scoffs back a chuckle when they both watch him try to find the posture and pose. He keeps shifting his feet, squaring back his shoulders, eying the flag in the distance.

Niall can't tell.

"Dunno, mate."

"Pretty atrocious. Both new at this?"

"Nah, just him."

John nods.

"Am I good?" Liam calls back.

"Jus' take the shot," Niall encourages, folding his arms as he leans against the golf cart.

Both Niall and John hide their laughter behind their hands as Liam shimmies his arse to plant his feet firmly into the grass. Niall only realizes he's fonding, and fonding hard, when it's too late and bites his lip, thankful Liam's totally engrossed in lining the golf ball with the hole. Finally, Liam brings the club back and swings it around, digging the tee out of the ground and popping the ball up towards the sky. Niall folds over cackling, forgetting all about being rejected at the club because the frown on Liam's face is too cute and priceless and John's laughing right along with him.

"What's wrong? What did I do wrong?" Liam looks affronted.

John tips his head towards Liam.

"Why don't you show him, Niall?"

And Niall freezes because last time he taught someone how to play golf it was with Barbara. He remembers leaning in so close he could smell the shampoo she had used that morning, and he doesn't really need to know what kind Liam uses- although he already kind of knows from experience.

"Really?" Niall asks, watching Liam grab the tee and the golf ball.

John glances down at his bare wrist casually.

"You can just sit and watch him, then you'll be here for the rest of the night."

Niall watches as Liam jams the tee back into the ground and balances the golf ball on top. He definitely gets the feeling that John didn't quite understand- he wanted him to go help instead. 

So Niall pushes himself off the cart and walks over, telling himself that it's definitely the sun that's gotten ten degrees hotter when Liam looks over at him, lost, and a bit expectantly. He takes a deep breath and slots a leg between Liam's, completely oblivious to the way Liam's breath hitches when his fingers graze over his shoulders, nudging his feet apart with his own.

"Y' don't wanna have yer feet too close or far apart." He nudges them until they're exactly the distance they should be for Liam. "And quit bein' so tense," Niall squeezes his fingers into his shoulders. "'S no wonder you couldn't hit the ball properly."

"Wasn't tense before," Liam mutters.

Niall presses a palm to Liam's back, frowns at the way his fingers tingle and tells him to lean forward a bit.

"Don't hunch. Keep yer back straight. No, don't bend that low, just- yeah. There."

"Like this?"

"Yer holding the club wrong too."

"Am I?"

Niall can't tell if John's still laughing at them or not. He can't really focus on anything other than the racing of his own heart through his ears, how his whole entire body feels like it's on edge whenever he gets this close to Liam. For a second, he almost forgets he's supposed to be helping handle a golf club, maybe even how to handle a golf club himself as he tries to figure out where Liam's hands should go since he's right handed. He certainly doesn't feel like he's done this before.

"Kay, left hand near the top, right below. Thumb- no. Relax your left."

And it's like Liam's purposefully tangling his hands up holding the club because Niall lets out a frustrated huff and even though this is the one thing he's been trying to avoid, he extends his arms against Liam's and rearranges his hands with his own. 

Liam's just tall enough that Niall has to crane his head around Liam's so he's not breathing down his neck. The body spray, the shampoo, and the aftershave hit his senses like a truck even though he knows Liam didn't overuse them by any means and he's so close to his face if he glanced over he could probably make out the exact shade of pink Liam's lips are.

And then he's back at the club, wrapped around Liam like a drunken sloth, murmuring things he's trying so hard to blur out of his mind, and then he's zeroed in onto his lips, the way the alcohol makes them pinker and shinier in the dim club lighting and- _why the hell not_ , he thought as their noses bumped.

"You good?" Niall asks, shaking himself away from the memory.

"Yeah," Liam breathes.

Niall doesn't stick around Liam for long to figure out what effect those few moments had on him, making the excuse that it'll be safer to watch him drive from the cart. John's giving Niall the exact same look Sean did right after he spilled his proverbial guts on him. He can hear Sean's voice chime, _you poor sod_ , and Niall's not sure he likes it very much.

Suddenly, he hears the metallic _thwack_ of the golf ball again and John whoops and claps his hands. Niall spins around to see a massive grin on Liam's face, grins back like he didn't miss it.

"How was it," Niall whispers to John after they both give Liam the thumbs up.

John makes a semi-impressed face.

"Not bad. Might only be here until midnight."

It takes Niall and Liam two and a half more hours to make it to the ninth hole, Niall's starving but winning, neither of their scores are anything to be impressed by, and John's amused by them both.

"You guys can grab a quick bite to eat back at the club," John says after Niall's stomach makes his predicament quite apparent.

"Sounds good," Niall looks over at Liam expectantly.

Liam nods and they walk over to the club, getting some sandwiches and crisps to tide them over until they can get back to the hotel. Niall's so wrapped up in his half-finished sub he doesn't notice Liam and John lagging behind on their way back to the golf cart until he's already there.

He watches curiously as Liam seems to hand him some money, slap him on the back with the words _yourself_ and _beer_ thrown in there. John heads back to the club with a big grin on his face and Liam makes his way back to the cart and Niall.

"He seemed pretty chuffed," Niall comments, watching John disappear back to the club.

Liam shrugs, opening the plastic around his sub.

"Thought he could take a break from us. Two losers trying to be ace at golf. Told him to grab a beer."

"Don't know what you're talking about mate, I only saw one loser," Niall jokes.

Liam laughs and fakes a punch to his arm.

Niall thinks he's got his bluff set up pretty well; that Liam doesn't suspect a thing and won't ask. Then, Liam's suddenly close as he sits next to him on the hood of the golf cart, crowding into Niall's space, bumping their elbows, and Niall's sort of not glad that John's off having a pint right now because he inconveniently forgets what a bluff even is.

At least Liam has the decency to wait until Niall's finished his sub and internally panicking to start talking.

"Look, I know why you ran off back to London the last few days."

The statement makes the last bite a bit harder to swallow.

"So that's why yeh gave him a free pint?"

And maybe, maybe this is why Niall upped and left. Maybe he was avoiding this, the second rejection, the sober rejection. The rejection to drive the first rejection home. Just in case it wasn't clear enough.

"I just thought we should talk, sort things out a bit," Liam says gently.

Niall laughs. It surprises them both, but especially Niall.

"You an' Harry were in this all along, yeah? You golfing with me instead of 'im. What, so is this like a date or something?" He laughs bitterly, ripping open the bag of crisps.

He's ready for it, the second rejection. He only hopes it'll go as easy as the first, Liam pulling him into a hug, away from his mouth and against his neck, cooing softly with things like _you're tired, babe_ , _let's get you back to the hotel, yeah?_ , and Niall's personal favorite, _you're drunk_ , because it wasn't obvious.

But Liam's fingers brush up against his arm and Niall curses the way the hairs there rise in a trail after them, the way a shudder travels all the way up his spine like a jolt of electricity, the way his heart still stammers to find its rhythm again like he knows it's going to be a while before he can get over any of this.

"D'you really fancy me like that?" Liam asks. "Harry told me you did, but-"

"So Harry was in on this?" Twat was playing sides.

"I wanted to hear it from you."

Niall shrugs.

"Yeah, it's stupid. I'm sorry."

Had he bothered to look up, he would have seen how Liam bristled.

"I didn't really think it would happen- didn't think it could, ya know?" Niall finally admits.

Niall looks up to the sky. The sun's hanging low, but not low enough to start coloring in the horizon. It's what he'd expect around six in the summertime.

"I didn't want you to regret it when you woke up," Liam finally says. "Thought you were just being cuddly."

Niall swings his neck around so quickly he hears the crack. He winces.

"What?"

Liam blushes.

"Well I really didn't think you were into-"

"You're into-"

"-Me?" They both say at the same time. There's a brief stop before nervous laughter gets the better of them.

"Liam, Jesus, I thought-"

"You were really good at hiding it though," Liam amends. "When you were sober."

"So were you, I didn't have- that's why I came onto ye when I was pissed, it was the only time I had any bloody confidence!"

They both pause, letting everything sink in.

"So you really do like me then?" Liam asks. "Like that?"

Niall starts laughing, the relief floods over him like a tidal wave.

"Why the bloody hell are we still sitting here trying to figure out the details, if yeh really do like me, just kiss me already-"

And Liam does, shutting Niall up quite effectively as he drags him closer and threads his hands through his hair. Something inside Niall breaks as Liam pushes his tongue past Niall's lips and he relaxes, thumbing at the stubble framing Liam's chin, squeezing his fingertips into his shoulder. And maybe, Niall thinks as he moves his own mouth against Liam's enthusiastically, waiting for this wasn't so terrible after all. Especially when he gets to nibble and pull and suck on Liam's bottom lip and fulfills almost every imagination he's ever had of it.

It feels like ages before their lips pull apart and when they do, Niall looks around the golf course, giddy and blushing and feeling like a fifteen year old fangirl as he licks over where Liam nipped.

"Reckon that bloke's gonna come back?"

Liam bites into his smile.

"Reckon he got the hint when I told him to have a couple beers on me."

"Shame, decent lad that one. Knew how to properly hold a club."

Liam's teeth release his lower lip into a lethal pout.

"I might've exaggerated that a bit."

Niall snorts.

"Just ta get me close, huh?"

Liam shrugs.

"It worked, didn't it?"

"And Harry was in on this too." Niall will never let this go.

"A hundred percent."

"I hate you both," Niall smiles. Because he really doesn't. Even though he wishes this whole thing wrapped up a bit sooner and a lot less embarrassingly and painfully.

They sit on the golf cart in silence, a thousand words that still need to be said hanging heavy between them as they finish off their food. Niall knows one snog won't magically fix everything as he looks up to the pinkening sky, chewing slowly.

"How long do you think we have?" Liam asks, dusting the crumbs from his hands.

Niall looks at his watch.

"'Bout another couple hours. I say enough to finish up a few more holes, but with your skills who knows."

Liam scoffs, but his eyes crinkle and sparkle.

"I'm really not that bad."

"Yeah, yeah, just a ruse to get me to touch yer arse, I get it."

Liam grins.

"Your move, Payne," Niall says once he's driven them both to the tenth hole.

Liam bites his lip, furrowing his eyebrows as he stares from the club to the golf ball on the tee.

"Think it's possible to have forgotten everything you taught me?"

Niall laughs, chest swelling. 

"Only if yer wanting me to touch yer arse again."

"Think I might be," Liam flirts back.

This time, Niall presses his body up against Liam's and it's the most comfortable, natural thing he's ever done, skimming his fingers down his arms before resting over his hands over Liam's. 

"So yeh want ta keep yer legs spread apart, not too much- yeah, there. Just relax and lean forward just a bit." Niall rests his chin on Liam's shoulder to get a good look at the ball, and maybe even to get a better whiff of his cologne. It makes his tummy turn with excitement, and when Liam glances backwards he doesn't think twice about pecking the corner of his mouth, even if the angle is slightly off-center.

"Ready?" Niall asks.

Liam nods.

"Kay, bring the club back over us, and- swing!"

Liam does, completely missing the ball and Niall nearly loses his own balance he's howling so hard. Liam turns to him, frowning.

"No wonder I'm shit, I got a shit instructor," he grumps. "How many tries do we have on this one?"

Niall has to dig the score sheet out of his pocket.

"Says this hole's a par four," he reads. "Three more chances."

Liam groans.

"Maybe John was right, we'll be here all night."

When Niall drives his ball only a hundred yards, he can't help but think Liam's right. And somehow, he doesn't mind when Liam laughs at him and pulls him into another sloppy kiss.


End file.
